The air cools with each step, and since I’m all sweaty from moving the contents of our entire life, my arms become clammy in the summer heat and I shiver. I’m not usually afraid of my own shadow, but this place . or the less likely scenario that monsters are lurking in the shadows. Shannon barrels downward, not a care for the possibility of rotten steps giving way . I want to say “No thanks, you go ahead and get murdered without me,” but I tentatively take a step, the ancient wooden stairs creaking even under my negligible weight. “Come on,” she says, pushing past me, carrying a giant box. Shannon’s only older than me by three years, but she acts like I’m a little kid. She catches my expression and laughs, patting my head, like I’m five instead of fifteen. I know my sister is joking, but she sounds so serious. “And gross, what’s that smell? It’s rank.” “This is such a murder basement,” I say, peering down the dark stairs.
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